


Rescue

by sunlightdances (glowinghorizons)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 08:30:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16761613
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glowinghorizons/pseuds/sunlightdances
Summary: “Dean, I’m fine.”He comes closer to you and sits down, his hands gentle on your face; a contrast to the angry, guilty energy practically vibrating through him. “That’s going to need stitches.” He murmurs. He grabs a makeshift med-kit out of his canvas bag and gets to work, cleaning the wound on your face and gritting his teeth when you wince and make a pained noise, involuntarily. “You said it yourself,” he continues. “You were gone for six hours.”OR:Dean and Sam come to your rescue and Dean feels guilty.





	Rescue

When Dean and Sam burst into the room you’re being held in, you think to yourself that you’ve never been so simultaneously relieved and irritated.

“Took you long enough!” You say, glaring as Sam comes around the chair you’re in to untie your wrists and ankles, and Dean looks around, his gun drawn.

You swallow as you watch him. He probably has no idea how attractive he is when he’s like this – jaw set, eyes fierce, and gun drawn. He looks dangerous, and you hate yourself for liking it because isn’t that such a cliche?

“Where did he go?”

“Out the back. I don’t think he really has any idea what he’s doing.” You say, referring to the teenager who was trying to stop you from taking out the girl he has a crush on, who he has no idea is a vamp.

“Did he hurt you?” Sam asks, and you sigh when he cuts the bindings at your ankles.

You snort. “He hit me in the head pretty hard but when I came to, he was nervous as hell.”

“He should be, the jackass.” Dean says as he comes closer, touching your hair lightly as he looks at the lump on your head. “You could have killed him.”

You stand up, wincing. “You know, I was gone for like six hours.”

Dean has the decency to look sheepish. “You said you were doing research. You could have been there for hours.”

You narrow your eyes, and Sam glares at his brother.

“He means to say that we’re sorry.”

“I knew it was probably that kid, and that you can take care of yourself. You would have kicked my ass if I would have kept calling you.”

“Can we please get the hell out of here and gank that nest before I die of starvation?” You say, but you’re interrupted when Ryan, the teenager, comes back into the room.

“Don’t move.” He says, brandishing a knife at you.

“Put it down.” Dean says, quickly shifting into attack mode. “Ryan, you don’t know what you’re doing.“

The boy is shaking like a leaf, but he looks defiantly at Dean. “I know I’m protecting Elizabeth! You want to hurt her.”

Sam holds up his hands. “Ryan, we don’t want to hurt her or you, but you don’t know what she is.”

You roll your eyes, wondering why Sam is even bothering with this kid. “Listen, Ryan, how about I don’t kick your ass for kidnapping me, and you tell us where Elizabeth is.”

Ryan looks at you nervously. “You really think something’s wrong with her?”

Dean groans. “Ryan, you’ve got two seconds to tell us where she is or I’m going to put my first in your face for tying up my friend.”

Dean’s threat combined with yours seems to do the trick, and soon you’re on your way to an old farm building where the vamp nest is. You feel bad for the kid when it comes down to it. It’s not his fault he fell in love with a manipulative vampire, after all.

The three of you take care of the nest and get back to the hotel in relatively one piece – you’ve got a gash on your forehead to go with the lump on your head and the boys both have a few scratches and bruises, but it could have been much worse. Sam goes to get food, and Dean fixes you with a look as soon as Sam shuts the door behind him.

“Sit down, sweetheart.” Dean instructs when you get inside the hotel room. “I’m gonna take a look at your head.”

He’s still got his gun clenched tight in his hand, and you get the feeling that he’s wound a little tight right now. You’re not sure what it is that’s set him off, but you find yourself staring at the way his shoulders are drawn tight and the veins running down his forearms.

“Dean, you can relax. We got the bad guys.” You say, trying to be reassuring.

“No.” He almost growls, and you’re startled by the anger in his voice. “This is my fault. Sorry I can’t relax.”

“Dean–”

“I should have called. I should have come to look for you.”

“Dean, I’m fine.”

He comes closer to you and sits down, his hands gentle on your face; a contrast to the angry, guilty energy practically vibrating through him. “That’s going to need stitches.” He murmurs. He grabs a makeshift med-kit out of his canvas bag and gets to work, cleaning the wound on your face and gritting his teeth when you wince and make a pained noise, involuntarily. “You said it yourself,” he continues. “You were gone for six hours.”

“I was just giving you grief, Dean. I didn’t mean it. The only reason I didn’t get out of that warehouse on my own is because I was knocked out for an hour.”

Dean starts stitching, scowling at you. “Whatever, kid. Look, can you just accept my friggin’ apology?” He grouses, and you can’t help it - you laugh.

You can tell he’s trying not to smile, and you count that as a small victory. Plus, you’re a little nervous, what with the proximity and the way he’s studying you so intently as he stitches up your forehead. It’s no wonder you can’t keep a straight face.

“You got first dibs on the shower, kiddo.” He says as a way to tell you your stitches are all set. When you stand up, he looks like he wants to say something else, but just inclines his head towards the bathroom when you raise an eyebrow at him.

You finish shampooing and are just enjoying the hot water – for once, a motel with decent hot water and water pressure – when you hear a crash from the room.

In a half second, you’re dressed in shorts and a tank top, your gun drawn and in the main room before you can think twice about it.

“What the hell?” Dean asks when you burst into the room.

“I heard you yelling!”

“I banged my knee on the table–”

You drop your gun to your side. “Are you serious?” You fume.

When he doesn’t answer, you meet his eyes, only to find that his eyes are not on your face. In fact, they seem to be having trouble staying in one place at all; his eyes roving all over you, from your legs to your stomach where your tank is stretched tight. You feel your entire body flush at the look on his face – his jaw is slack and his eyes are dark.

“Dean.” You bark out his name, your blood running hot through your veins.

“Kid…” He says slowly, walking towards you. “In about five seconds, I’m going to kiss you and I’m probably not going to be able to stop once I start, so if you don’t want me to–”

“I want you to.” You say, your voice shaking, and then he’s on you, his mouth demanding on yours. You almost can’t keep up - your knees feel weak and you feel like your entire body is on fire. Dean groans into your mouth as he backs you up against the wall, his hands framing your face.

“Goddamn–” he breathes when he breaks apart from you, struggling to catch his breath.

“Yeah.” You agree, a little breathless yourself.

“Been wanting to do that for months.” He says, his voice a low growl.

“Same, god–” you say, laughing a bit at the look of delight on his face.

He kisses you again, softer this time but no less passionate.

“Next time you leave me somewhere for six hours, I’m seriously going to kick your ass, though.” You say, and he grins.

“Sure, sweetheart.”


End file.
